Chapter 2: Wretched Highs
New Anchorage lay under a dome of bright floodlights, filling the empty streets with unrelenting brightness. A slow drizzle of frosty rain had started shortly after Lorca had beamed down and he'd pulled up his collar and dug his hands into the pockets of the jumpsuit as he made his way into the city.
He tried to recall when he'd last breathed fresh air and walked on the solid ground of a planet. The silence was different than out in space, too. It wasn't that there were no sources of sound in space, the noise just could not traverse that great emptiness. The darkness outside New Anchorage was filled with the chirping of insects and the whispering of wind, the faint sound of tiny raindrops hitting the ground.
By the time he reached Doctor Culber's house, he had quite enough of the enforced introspection. It was like he'd never left the cell, his mind going in the same circles it had been for months with no resolution in sight.
It irritated him that he had found no flaw in Landry's logic of sending him here. Letting him out and leaving him on his own didn't seem smart at first, but she was right. He had nowhere else to go and if he didn't come up with an alternative fast, they would just stick him back into that cell where he would die of boredom, if nothing else.
The night was young, though, the terrans on the station would fight it out until the Buran arrived. He had no ETA for that and he cursed himself for not asking. It'd have given him an idea of how much time he had down here to get his bearings.
The house was a one-story brick building in the same quaintly overcome style Tarsus' upper class had favoured in his universe as well. Surrounded by a high wall, the house seemed more like a small fortress, sensors picking up his approach as he stepped on the raked gravel of the path leading in between the wall towards the front door.
It swung open on soundless hinges to reveal a short hallway, dimly lit and outlining the tall, willowy form of a female kelpien. She had her hands folded in front of her, gaze cast down and shoulders slightly hunched forward in an attempt to appear less tall. He still only reached her shoulder, but it didn't feel like it.
"I'm looking for Dr. Culber," Lorca said.
The kelpien twisted her head a little to the side, to bring him into better focus. Someone moved into the hallway behind her and called, "Yes yes, that's me. Irsa, get that fine piece of ass off the street before somebody sees it!"
The voice wavered, uncertain of its pitch and loudness and as the kelpien shifted out of the way to press herself into the corner next to the door to allow Lorca to pass, Lorca saw the man who'd spoken lean a heavy shoulder into the wall while his body continued to sway just slightly.
The man's face had an unhealthy pallor, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, even as the white floodlights spilled inside. He didn't blink. He wore nothing but a pair of boxers, revealing the thin sheen of sweat covering his body.
Considering the greeting, Lorca shelved the half-cooked idea of trying to impersonate his counterpart for the time being. He stepped inside and the kelpien twitched forward behind him to close — and lock —the door.
"You got here fast," Culber said, pushed himself from the wall and made a sweeping gesture with one hand, which looked like he was about to bow with a mocking flourish, but then thought better of it. "I just got finished decoding Landry's message. Come on in, I'll give you the ground rules."
Culber wobbled along the hallway and Lorca strode after him, taking in the security console set into the wall close to the door and the two closed doors branching off. Culber led him through an open, arched hallway into what seemed to be a curious combination of private lab and living room. Something smelled odd and Lorca glanced over the equipment. He spotted a tray with injections laid out and wondered if that was what the good doctor had been sampling through the night.
"Sit down," Culber said and dropped himself on the couch at the centre of the room. Lorca walked around the couch, saw no obvious other seats close by and elected to remain standing, looking down on the doctor along the length of his nose and assessing his state.
"Suit yourself," Culber huffed. "Just so we get this straight, you giving me attitude isn't going to make this any easier."
"You're on drugs," Lorca said.
"Yes!" Culber confirmed with a wide grin. "It's my night off! It's when I test the product! Landry never had any decency to leave a man his peace."
Lorca arched a questioning brow. "And that's my problem because?"
A brief spike of anger crossed Culber's face, mixed with sudden anxiety and several other emotions that were gone too quick to name, his grin became flat as the blood drained from his face. He took several deep breaths, swayed a little.
"Oh… not good," he muttered.
Lorca examined his feelings for any traces of sympathy, but couldn't summon any. The man was a terran, even in that pitiful state. What's more, he was a scientist on this universe's Tarsus IV. For all Lorca knew, he'd been involved in the massacre. But even if he hadn't, Lorca doubted he'd disapprove of it, which was enough to condemn him in Lorca's book.
"What did Landry's message say?" he asked.
A shudder went through the doctor as he pulled himself together and turned a stare up at Lorca. His brows drew together in confusion.
"Oh, cap—-?" he stopped himself as his brain clicked back in. He pushed the heel of his hand against his temple. "You've got to stay here," he finally said. "In the house. Don't even look at the garden. Don't…"
"I guess a morning run is out of the question then."
The look of panic on the doctor's face was entirely too satisfying to feel bad about.
"Do you want to get us all killed?"
Lorca shrugged. "Maybe someday," he tilted his head. "But I'll make sure it's a surprise."
This time, the confusion settled deeper into the doctor's expression. He pushed harder with his hand against his head and dipped to the side a little.
"I… uh…"
He blinked a few times, clearly lost the thread and turned his head to shout, "Irsa!"
Lorca watched the kelpien silently shuffle into the room, holding the same subservient pose. He'd be very surprised to learn that the kelpien worked here of her own free will. The terrans' disregard for aliens had been too obvious from the start to leave many alternatives.
"That's Irsa," Culber said. "She's my servant."
"Your slave, you mean," Lorca said, despite knowing better than to start this discussion with a terran who was clearly not all there anyway.
"Well," Culber said. "She's a rescue, you know. She's got a birth defect and the breeder couldn't use her so she was going to be put down."
"She's a member of a warp-capable species."
Culber chortled at the absurdity of the idea and shook his head. This caused him to make a displeased sound at the back of his throat and he dry-heaved once.
"She gives really nice foot massages," Culber said as if that was an adequate explanation. In his mind, it probably was. He looked at her and said, "Get the guest room ready, we have… a guest."
Lorca watched her leave with a bow and heard her hooves clatter away quietly in another part of the house. He turned back to Culber.
"Guest, am I?"
Culber gave him a wave and a wan smile. "I got some handcuffs if it makes you feel better, but… where you gonna go anyway?"
Lorca chose to ignore the question until he came up with a decent answer. "I need access to your information network."
Culber choked on his own laugh. "Nice try. Not gonna happen."
He pulled himself to his feet, gave Lorca a bleary-eyed look and stood for a long moment almost motionless. Then he collapsed in slow-motion, folding at the knees and upper body bending forward as if his spine had been pulled out.
Lorca took a step back so the man didn't drop right on his boots. He regarded the unconscious doctor for a long moment, considering his options. Only then did he step forward and put a hand on the man's shoulder. Culber came back and blinked up at him slowly. A lax smile spread across his face.
"Oh wow," he slurred, dropping his head back so he could stare at Lorca until his consciousness winked back out and he went limp again. This time, Lorca crouched down and caught him. The doctor's head rolled at his shoulder and some rigidity returned to his body.
"Captain?" Culber asked uncertainly.
"You're having a bad trip," Lorca said and wrapped his arms around the doctor to haul him back up on the couch.
For a moment, Culber held on to him and murmured, "You smell nice."
Fresh sweat and dried blood, Lorca thought, thoroughly unconvinced and disentangled himself from the doctor.
"Shit, I'm sorry, sir, that was…" Culber started pleadingly, swayed forward again, but managed to stay conscious. "… out of line."
He leaned to the side and threw up on the floor. He slipped further until his cheek rested on the edge of the couch. "That's not supposed to happen," he said in perfect confusion.
"You should probably go to bed," Lorca said.
Culber turned his head, gave him a long look and dirty grin. "I thought you'd never ask, sir."
Lorca tucked his hands into the pockets of the jumpsuit and stepped away. "I should go along with this just to watch you embarrass yourself."
Lorca wandered to the other end of the room and the lab installed there. He had never had much patience for scientific details, but as a commanding officer, he considered it his duty to have at least a basic grasp of the different experts working under him. It helped to make informed decisions and the scientists usually learned better than to try and bullshit him. Even without the obvious indicator currently passing out on the couch, Lorca would have guessed this was some sort of drug kitchen.
Irsa came back into the room, her gaze flitted between him and Culber, uncertain if she had permission to act.
Lorca turned on his heels and tried to meet her eyes, though it didn't quite work that well due to kelpien physiology.
"Does that happen often?" Lorca asked, aiming his chin at the doctor.
"Sometimes," the kelpien replied, voice so quiet he barely heard it.
"You know how to take care of him?"
The kelpien nodded, bowed her head and made to turn away. Lorca watched her as the kelpien went to the couch, gently gathered the doctor in her arms and lifted him up with no apparent effort.
"Irsa?" Lorca asked and she stopped and turned back to him.
"Can you come back when you're done? I have some questions."
"Of course," she nodded and carried the doctor from the room.
While she was busy, Lorca made his way to the wall at the back of the lab, where he'd spotted a desk and computer terminal. Surprisingly tidily kept, there was a stack of powered-down PADDs that required a voice print and command to unlock. The computer terminal itself was turned on, displaying a logo which he assumed belonged to the local research institute. He trailed his hands over the keyboard, expecting it to require a similar passcode, but the display lit up with no issue. Without taking his gaze off the screen, he reached behind him and pulled a chair close to sit down.
Landry's message was still open, the decoding programme still running. Lorca looked it over, but couldn't determine the nature of the algorithm. The message was short and somewhat lacking in detail.
Under attack. Sending him down. Keep contained and alive. Contact you when clear. Cmdr. L.
He supposed this wasn't quite the unexpected scenario he had imagined. Maybe there had been contingencies in place, or at least some kind of plan to evacuate to Tarsus IV in case the station was compromised. Only a small military complement couldn't keep all of the often difficult terrain under observation. Lorca knew well enough how difficult it could be track someone on Tarsus. The rock composition underneath the forests caused sensor interference and meant search parties had to go at it the old-fashioned way.
The information network was not very different than to what he was used to, but terran society didn't really believe in information sharing. He ran a few basic searches to get a baseline for what he was in for. Terran laws and customs, historical events, first contact protocols — or whatever they called it here. The terrans actually liked making contact with civilisations that were on the brink of warp-technology. They were easier to subdue, but not so backward they couldn't be used as slaves or an endless supply of foot-soldiers and cannon fodder.
He ran a search on his own name, not sure if he expected to be swamped with information or whether the Gabriel Lorca of this universe was a dark and well-kept secret. In the event, it was a bit of both. There was information on the emperor's court, though it had the look of propaganda and couldn't be taken at face value. Whatever rank and title Gabriel Lorca had held before had been purged from the record. He had been close to the faceless emperor, fallen out of favour after a failed coup and dragged the Empire into an ongoing cold war between various clusters of loyalists to Lorca, the emperor and quite a few other groups hoping to take advantage in the occasional flare-ups of combat.
It was nothing Lorca couldn't have made an educated guess about, just from what he had heard and what the terrans had inadvertently revealed when they had attacked his ship.
Irsa came back into the room and bowed to him.
He'd be lying if he pretended he disliked the level of respect a captain received. He'd earned it and he'd damn well have it, for the better of everyone involved. But the kelpien's mindless submission grated on his nerves.
He stared at her for a long time, realised he was glowering and making her nervous. Her shoulders twitched a little, but no threat ganglia were showing.
"You've asked to see me," she said when he continued to just stare at her.
"Are there weapons in the house?"
A tremble went through her body as she was caught by her own submission. Loyalty to her owner dictated she mustn't reveal anything sensitive, but her upbringing forced her to follow a command whenever it was given.
A pang of guilt closed Lorca's throat down, he was exploiting her no different than any other terran would, after all. He couldn't think of another way, though, only that he would need to make amends when he got the chance to.
"Dr. Culber has a weapons' locker in his bedroom," she finally replied.
"You can't get to it?"
She shook her head fervently. "Of course not!"
"Well," Lorca said with a slight grimace. "Better preserve these charges then."
In his moment of introspection, Irsa's attention wandered over to the couch, fixed on something there that caused her to fidget.
"What security measures does the house have?"
She brought her head back around to him. "Motion sensors and the walls and windows have protective coating."
He nodded along, his thoughts already several steps ahead. He tilted his head at the kelpien and gave her an assuring smile. For some reason, this seemed to make her more nervous.
"If I wanted a ship, where would I find one?"
She blinked at him, her head swaying from side to side. "I don't know."
All right, too direct, Lorca conceded. "Tell you what," he said. "You clean up that vomit, then you make us a coffee and we'll sit down and talk. How's that sound?"
She seemed confused by what he said, but finally seemed to concentrate on the parts that made sense to her. She said, "I'll get to it," as she scurried from the room to return a moment later with cleaning supplies.
Putting her from his mind, Lorca turned his attention back to the computer.
He found nothing on parallel universes that went beyond mere theory, nothing his own universe wouldn't have and absolutely no indication the terrans had a technology that allowed them to jump from one to the other at will. He found nothing on the ISS Buran's experimental drive, either. The Buran had been commissioned the same year as in his universe, but while his ship had been equipped for short and medium term exploration as well as a frontline battleship, the ISS Buran had never been meant for anything but combat and had served as flagship at quite a number of battles.
Movement caught his eye and he looked up as Irsa returned with a cup of coffee on a small tray.
"I don't drink coffee," she said. "Do you need anything…?"
"Black is fine."
He took the cup and inhaled the fragrant steam, surprised at how heartbreaking it was, just to be reminded of the last time he'd had coffee and all the things that had changed since then. What he had lost, simply because he'd failed.
He forced himself to take a sip, thick and bitter and revitalising. He stood up from the chair and stepped aside.
"Will you at least sit with me?" he asked, making a gesture towards the chair. As expected, Irsa didn't seem to quite understand what to do with the question. She stared at the chair as if she had never seen one.
"I'm not terran," Lorca said. She lifted her head to look at him.
"I don't understand."
"Where I'm from, we don't allow slavery," Lorca said. "You're a warp-capable species. You've reached the stars, you've earned a place equal to everyone else."
Irsa watched him, immobile eyes and alien features he could not quite read.
"That is strange," Irsa said finally. "Forgive me if I ask, but how do you keep order?"
"Order?"
"If everyone is equal, who decides? How does everyone know where they belong?"
"They belong where they want to be, they choose who to follow."
Like some terrans had chosen to follow a man named Gabriel Lorca into another universe, but Lorca didn't feel like it would get his point across.
"It sounds very chaotic," Irsa said, blinked a few times rapidly and shuddered slightly. "I could not live in a place like that."
Lorca frowned at her. "It's better than slavery," he said, unsure why the statement even needed to be made.
"It's unsafe," she said. Something flitted across her face and she shivered away from him. "Please forgive me, sir, I was too forward." She bowed her head. "Of course your world is not mine to criticise. I will do as you say."
She stepped forward and sat down stiffly. "What did you want to talk about?"
Giving an inward sigh, Lorca wrapped his hands around the coffee cup and found a spot furthest from Irsa to lean his back against the desk.
"This is an agricultural colony, right? Tarsus IV has very fertile soil, so that's mostly crops and the like. How is that shipped off-world?"
"Bulk transporters come and go all the time, it's all automated. I don't know much about that."
"Is there a spaceport? Space-dock in orbit?"
"No, nothing like that," she seemed to sense his growing frustration at her answers. "People here don't travel a lot off-world. The Imperial base has a gunship for atmospheric and orbital flight, but we are not on the routes of passenger lines."
"What about the Imperial ships?" he asked. "How much through traffic is there?"
"I don't know," she said, voice growing thinner. He suspected the Imperial fleet mostly ignored this region of space or Gabriel Lorca's loyalists wouldn't have hidden away out here; dug into their rock, they could have been invisible from everyone not specifically looking in the right place. Though, even if Imperial ships regularly passed through the system, Irsa was unlikely to know — or care — about them. For a moment, he considered waking up Culber to get these answers, especially while he wasn't thinking clearly, but that also made the answers he did get unreliable. He'd have to wait and see what he could pry from him tomorrow.
"I'm sorry," Irsa said meekly, her discomfort obvious. If she could have, she'd have vanished on the spot.
"It's not your fault," Lorca said and got up, Irsa took it as a sign she was allowed to get up, too.
"I shouldn't have asked," he added. "It's late… well, early… you should get some sleep, too."
"Do you want me to show you your room?" she asked.
"I'm sure I can find it, sleep tight."
She bent her head again and left the room so fast, he could even tell her to stop that damn bowing.
Hugh Culber woke with a throbbing head, an ache in his eyes that told him he'd been looking at too many bright lights last night and the realisation that he should probably destroy that batch before it gave him a bad reputation. Drugs were a hobby of his, albeit a useful and entertaining one. Even if there were some interesting similarities between chemical warfare and recreational drugs. The genetic tailoring they had been working on at the institute was opening up wholly new possibilities.
He hauled himself out of bed, stretched a little limberness back into his limbs and wandered into the hallway and the living room. It was empty and perfectly tidy, he looked towards his computer terminal with a frown without quite realising the reason.
He heard faint sounds from the kitchen and walked to the open doorway that connected the living room and kitchen. He stopped there, realising he had a completely different sort of headache to deal with now.
Landry's most important prisoner stood by the window with a cup in hand, gazing out. He'd replicated himself fresh clothes and by the look of his faintly damp hair, he'd found the shower and not been shy about making himself at home. He'd shoved a sidearm into the back of his trousers, not unlike any terran soldier who was feeling casual.
Off to the side, Irsa noticed him and busied herself with preparing his breakfast without needing prompting.
Memories of last night were a little blurry, Culber was sorry to notice.
"Have I already told you you need to stay inside?" he asked.
This Lorca might be slightly scrawnier, but that was the biggest difference Culber could determine as the man turned his head slightly and regarded him.
"Good morning," he said with a curious lack of inflection and an entirely too pleasant, low rasp in his voice.
Culber rubbed his temple. "Yeah, good morning, I guess. So… you need to stay inside and…"
"Keep my head down, not even look at the garden," Lorca sounded like he was reciting Culber's words back at him, so the doctor decided to assume he'd been present enough to deliver them. Lorca smiled a little as he continued to look at the garden.
"Good, good," Culber said. "Are you going to make this difficult?"
Lorca arched a brow. "You mean, do I want to be picked up and tortured for years by the Imperial Army just because I happen to look like their favourite enemy? Not really, no."
With a sigh of relief, which Culber realised he probably should've not shown, he slipped into a chair by the table just in time for Irsa to set down his plate for him. He decided to blame his comedown for the lapse.
"You know what I'm wondering?" Lorca said suddenly and Culber hesitated with a forkful of egg halfway to his mouth, glancing past it at the man still by the window. Culber didn't like the tone. It seemed neutral, but hid something vicious and teasing underneath. The tone Lorca had when he knew more than everybody else around him and wanted to enjoy the last few moments before he let them feel it.
Culber shoved the fork into his mouth, chewed down and made a noncommittal grunt. He'd briefly spoken with Landry and she'd been evasive about this Lorca's personality. He hadn't paid it much attention back then. Just because someone looked the same didn't mean they shared any other traits. His mentor at the University of Pax Martia had been running experiments on twins to determine just this — or the opposite, wherever the research would take him. He had since expanded to run a comparison between natural twins and lab-grown clones.
Lorca took a sip of his coffee and turned his head back to gaze out the window.
"The ISS Buran has a drive that allows her to jump to another universe in an instant, yet, when she received an emergency call from your base…" he pursed his lips as if in thought. "She takes a long time to get here."
His voice dropped to a deceptive croon. "Why is that?"
"How should I know?" Culber asked. "Maybe it's broken again."
Lorca brought his head around to stare at him, making Culber hyper-aware of each tiny gesture and he found it momentarily difficult to remember how to eat scrambled eggs without doing something awkward. He considered dropping the fork and having a sip of orange juice, but the thought of spilling it all in front of the captain… not the captain… made it unappealing.
"You know about the drive?"
"I know about the drive, yes," Culber said. "I don't know how it works. I've never even been on the ship."
Lorca made a low sound and Culber suffered a moment of icy anxiety at how much he felt like the disappointment was his fault. No wonder Landry had wanted this guy off her station.
"Are you done interrogating me?" Culber demanded, summoning anger based mostly on the headache. He'd need to remember to get a shot in before heading to work, losing his head in this company was bad enough, it could be fatal outside. "I need to finish breakfast and get to work, I'm overseeing human trials and the schedule is tight."
Lorca passed another glance over him. "I'm just naturally curious," he said.
"You're looking for an angle," Culber said. "A way to play me. How stupid do you think I am? Can't even blame you, who wants to be a prisoner, right? Thing is, you are. Better remember that."
As expected, the show of resistance got Lorca to turn around and drop his gaze heavily on Culber, though still keeping his expression carefully neutral while his eyebrows wandered upward into mild skepticism.
"I'm not likely to forget," he assured him and Culber wasn't sure if there was a threat in the words or if his imagination was just overreacting.
Lorca said, "So, if something happens to you, who do I turn to? Landry said you have other people."
Culber put the spoon down and reached for the orange juice, giving Lorca a glare just to make a point while he drank and played for time.
"Nothing's gonna happen."
"Really? You sure you haven't got an assistant looking for a quick promotion?"
"That's not how it works in the sciences. All she'll do is steal my research or… make me look like I stole somebody else's. It won't stop me coming home."
"Except for the rival, of course, who you stole from, or made to look like you did. They are allowed to execute you."
Culber glowered. "You've been reading."
"Most of the night," Lorca said with a slight smile. He made a gesture with one hand. "I'm not going anywhere, so I expect to do a lot more reading."
"Not on my computer," Culber said instantly. "You got me on the back-foot last night. Don't get used to it. Landry said to 'contain' you and that's what's going to happen."
The smile on Lorca's face turned into a smirk. "Those handcuffs are still on offer, then?"
Culber tried to recall that part of the conversation, came up empty and fervently hoped it wasn't quite as indecent as Lorca's expression made it seem. At least he seemed to be taking it with good humour, but with Captain Lorca, you could never really tell with any measure of certainty, either.
He refused to be cowed by this wannabe and bared his teeth. "If that's what it takes."
He met the other man's gaze as steadily as he could but was sure he gave no outward sign of any insecurity. Better to finish the conversation while he was ahead, then.
He shovelled the rest of the egg into his mouth, then emptied the juice and sucked on the cup of tea he had been looking past in his distraction.
"I need to get going," he said.
"You need to give me an alternative," Lorca insisted.
Dog with a bone, Culber thought with wry frustration and stopped halfway to the door. The man had a point, though, although Culber would've very much preferred it if Lorca hadn't been so very much aware of it. Lorca didn't want to know these things for any of the reasons he was giving him, logical as they might be. He wanted them as weapons in his arsenal to turn on them the first chance he got. Still, it made it hard to refuse him outright.
"Well, in the unlikely event that something does happen, which won't, but fine…" Culber said. "Irsa can get you in touch with Adrian Kodos, he's a clerk at the colonial administration. Reliable man, but not much of a risk-taker. I'd rather not spread the word about you being here at all, so keep it down until I'm confirmed dead."
Lorca had gone still, gaze narrowed and mouth pressed into a thin line.
"I ran a search on him," Lorca said, seeming to unclench his teeth with some effort.
Culber wasn't sure what to make of that remark and said, "He's not to so important. He just became a council-member's personal aid, but that's just another type of clerk. No need for his profile to be public."
He crossed his arms over his chest, reacting to the other man's sudden hostility.
"Do you have any other pressing questions?" Culber asked, not hiding his own anger.
Lorca shook his head, found something to glower at somewhere in mid-air between them and Culber turned away to leave. He got all the way through the doorway before Lorca's slightly raised voice made him stop.
"You got any gym equipment? A holo-projector? Or is that not allowed, either?"
Culber was tempted to just let the man fester in his own boredom for a day or so, but while the thought had its allure, reasonably it was much better to give Lorca something to occupy himself with. The question just was which pastime would cause fewer issues down the line.
Sighing inwardly, Culber said, "Irsa can set you up."
The man looked willing to take on a klingon either way, so making sure he was able to hit slightly less hard probably wouldn't have been worth the effort anyway.
Lorca's deep voice followed him, distant now that he was walking away, but still somehow able to make the air shiver between them.
"Thank you," he said and Culber couldn't really tell if he was expressing any kind of genuine gratitude or simply mocking him.
The New Anchorage Military Forces Security Station close to the city centre, within spitting distance of both, colonial offices and the research institute. It had been built for up to a hundred soldiers, but mostly housed automated systems now, leaving dorm rooms and recreation area to fall into disuse. It sprawled over a large chunk of land, the barracks themselves, the central building where offices and sensor controls were housed and the hangar with the gunship and other vehicles were stored.
Lined up and standing to attention, the nineteen soldiers seemed like a sorry display. The posting on Tarsus IV wasn't exactly good for anyone's career. With Commander Ash Tyler being the highest-ranking officer on the planet, there was little hope for advancing much further unless a new crisis came over them and shook things up again. There were enough rebels in the galaxy to serve, but Tyler couldn't quite fault them if they preferred to wreak their havoc elsewhere.
It had been four months since his second in command had made an attempt at his life. He was still to select a new second in command and had watched with some glee as his subordinates jockeyed and backstabbed and schemed for the position. He wouldn't be able to prolong it indefinitely, but he hadn't quite decided yet.
His personal favourite was a young lieutenant. His parents had been resettled on Tarsus after the famine had depleted the workforce, he'd had enough ambition to join up, but not enough to leave his dreary home planet behind. Thomas Leighton was thoughtful and quiet, kept his opinions to himself but never seemed to miss anything.
His only liability was his friendship with cadet Moreau. Even now, they stood side by side. Moreau was a troublemaker and Tyler suspected she would either go far or die young. He'd considered taking her out of the game himself, just to arrange his unit in the way he saw fit. However, her youthful beauty and devious mind had its uses, too.
At Tyler's command, his people and they straightened even more, arms already outstretched in salute when Captain Maddox, his bodyguard and a complement of armed officers beamed down.
Maddox returned the salute with impatient precision.
Tyler carefully inclined his head, finding a balance between deference and confidence. Though Maddox gave no indication, Tyler knew a man of his rank and reputation wouldn't miss even the faintest gesture.
"Welcome to Tarsus IV, sir," Tyler said. "My people and I are at your disposal."
Maddox looked over the line of soldiers, his attention lingering on Moreau for just a second too long. Tyler made a silent note of this.
Maddox nodded, acknowledging Tyler's pledge and assessing how far it would hold. Tyler had no interest in getting on Maddox's bad side and the emperor's along with it, but Maddox didn't need to know that.
"We have much to discuss," Maddox said.
Tyler dismissed his soldiers and invited Maddox to join him in his office. As the soldiers relaxed slightly, but knew better than to break away from their place before Maddox and Tyler had cleared the area, Tyler looked over and snapped, "Moreau, with us, you can bring us something to drink while we talk."
"Yes, sir!"
She saluted quickly and fell into step behind them, giving a triumphant grin at Leighton back over her shoulder, looking as if her plan had come together perfectly.
"Loyalists of the traitor Lorca were camping out right at your doorstep," Maddox said not much later, sitting in Tyler's office as if he owned it, with just his bodyguard pinned to his side and the rest of his officers already taking over the base.
"They have been using an asteroid on the outer edges of the system as a main base of operations, from what we could determine, they have begun building it even before the traitor attempted his first coup."
Moreau had dutifully served them fresh coffee when both Maddox and Tyler had declined anything alcoholic. She had taken the liberty of serving herself a glass of whiskey and lingered now at the back of the room with the glass cradled against her chest and occasionally taking a sip. Tyler would have sent her away, but the effect her presence had on Maddox was too interesting not to observe.
"I knew nothing," Tyler said. "If I had, you can be sure, I'd have reported it immediately."
Maddox said nothing, glanced towards the window, then back at Tyler. "You don't have the firepower to take them on, but we're currently taking care of it. We expect to take over the base in a few hours. We've already taken a number of prisoners, some of them known to be very close to the traitor. The base need not concern you."
The base, and the fame and glory of taking it need not concern you, Tyler corrected in his mind. Much as he disliked it, Maddox was right. Their gunship was capable of travelling that far out, but it didn't pack the kind of punch they would need once they got there, especially if it was a main base. Lorca was known to be many things, but an easy opponent he was not.
"What concerns you," Maddox said. "Is that we have reports of the traitor himself having been on the station. My people have spotted him several times during the fighting, but he's vanished hours ago. We managed to intercept a shuttle returning to the base and analysing its travel log, it passed by Tarsus and has beamed down one person outside of New Anchorage last night."
"You think he's here," Tyler said and made sure he didn't sound incredulous while a million possibilities bloomed into bright, glittering existence inside his mind. A way of this forsaken dirt lump of a planet and back to the stars. He'd been waiting for something like this for far too long and it had been right there all along. Now, all he needed to do was seize opportunity and ride it.
Maddox allowed himself a disdainful smile. "It seems he has lost his taste for fighting, or maybe he's just getting tired of constant failure and looking to become a farmer. I think he's hiding out in the city."
Maddox was interrupted by the beep of his communicator, he pulled it out and flipped it open.
"Maddox," he said.
"Sir, the Buran is here, we are ready to engage."
Maddox was on his feet before the announcement was even finished.
"I'm leaving my officers with you, they will bring you up to speed and bolster your ranks. I understand this is your planet, so operative control is in your hands, commander. I will return as soon as we've dealt with the traitor's flagship."
"Understood, sir," Tyler said.
He saluted as Maddox turned away and stepped outside to give his officers orders. Tyler got up and followed him to the door and Moreau finished her drink and began to join them, not waiting for an invitation this time.
Maddox noticed her and said to Tyler, "Your cadet reminds me of my sister. Take good care of her."
"Of course, sir," Tyler said without missing a beat, but the moment Maddox's attention was on his officers, Tyler caught himself frowning, content when he found that the remark confused Moreau just as much as him. Did Maddox mean 'take good care of her, I'll pick her up later'? Was Tyler supposed to take her out of the line of fire? Something he couldn't easily do, understaffed as his command was.
"Oh, and commander?" Maddox had turned back one last time. "If you find Lorca, your orders are to not approach him. Just find him, he's mine and mine alone. Is that clear?"
"Crystal, sir," Tyler said and saluted sharply. "Long live the Empire!"
"Long live the Empire!" Maddox responded and the transporter beam picked him up.
End of Chapter 2: Wretched Highs
Author's Note: No, I'm not sorry for the fine piece of ass comment. I haven't had a hot protagonist in years, let me have my fun.
Note: Pax Martia is the mirror equivalent of Utopia Planitia, worked out with a total lack of any Latin skill whatsoever. Inspired by "Pax Romana" it's supposed to mean "Martian Peace". I think it's suitably aggressive.
Also Note: I loathe using OCs when there are canon characters to fill the role. This being Star Trek, there's an army of canon characters to choose from, but I didn't want to use anyone too famous.
Thomas Leighton is an acquaintance/friend of Kirk's who, in the prime universe, was present at the Tarsus IV massacre.
Marlena Moreau appears in the TOS episode "Mirror, Mirror" as a wonderfully scheming captain's woman.
That being said, finding them and fitting them into the story was a bitch, so I won't be doing that for all OCs.
Last revised on 18/Nov/2018